Like Carl, Brandon had not mentioned their current situation to Emma. No need to cause her any undue worry. The disappointment of not being able to land, will give them many hours of email discourse during the long twenty-month trip, should that become the case.
Valerie would willingly remain on Mars for the rest of her life, growing her own food and living off the land, if only Steve could join her. She had often fantasized about settling down on Mars with Steve, hanging out her shingle, and waiting for the first immigrants to arrive from Earth (the proverbial small town country doctor in the bad-ass frontier town).
With the ‘Mars Direct Plan’ moving to its ultimate advantage of a manned flight every two years, it isn’t hard to imagine scores of settlers arriving in less than twenty years. A decent little boomtown, along with a thriving community, could spring up by then. This time frame would only put Valerie in her early to late-fifties to early-sixties, very doable. She would have a busy and productive life for many years, especially considering the reduced gravity and how liberating that could be on aging bones and muscles.
Of course, Steve would eventually need to retire from his paramilitary career before linking up with her on Mars. But, a boomtown could use a good sheriff, if only to keep the immigrating colonists on the straight and narrow. Besides, knowing human nature, she knew it wouldn’t be long before someone set up a still and started manufacturing Two-Moonshine, begin running games of chance, or launch other types of commerce; setting in motion a myriad of problems requiring law enforcement. His background in subterfuge and policing bad guys would make Steve a natural for the sheriff position, or just as there are U.S. Marshals, Mars could have a U.M. (United Mars) Marshal. ‘I’ll have to bring that up in my next email,’ Valerie thought.